Returning Isn't Everything
by Splenda
Summary: Post Shamballa. Anime-verse with some manga. Roy returns after two years and finds things to be different then when he left.  Roy/Riza with some Havoc/Riza
1. The Return

It had been two years since Edward had disappeared beyond the Gate of Alchemy. No one had seen nor heard of him since then until today when he came back amid the chaos of rockets and soldiers led by a fanatical woman named Eckhart. The attack against Central had bled over into the surrounding towns and the military was working hard to clean up the remaining rubble and soulless bodies. Reports were flooding into Central command from all corners of military headquarters. Within a few hours, a handful of events had taken place that had shaken the core of Amestris. Word traveled fast in such a small country, and the attacks made on Central had been widespread. Eckhart's army had touched in nearly every town encompassing the country.

The Elric brothers had appeared again, and vanished just as quickly. The Fullmetal Alchemist, whom had been missing for two years, came into the save the day with almost no differences. He was even complete with a shoddy automail arm and leg. Alphonse Alric had also appeared, along with a gang of friends and the brothers were together again, briefly, before Edward ran off, piloting the attacking air ships back through the portal made in the Gate. This time, he took Alphonse with him.

But Edward hadn't been the only one that had reappeared. In fact, the country of Amestris was safe for good from the horrors on the other side of the Gate due to the efforts of the miraculously appearing man. Dressed in his army blues, he had walked on scene in a torrid affair of Central being devastated, and his reaction was simply to do the thing he was most natural at. Take charge.

And it was probably due to the appearance of two State Alchemists, that even amid all of the city wreckage and busy work putting Central City back in tip top shape, everyone was abuzz with hushed chatter of the mysterious appearances and disappearances of both. As quickly as he had come in and destroyed rows and rows of soldiers, the Flame Alchemist Roy Mustang had vanished in a hot air balloon and not yet resurfaced.

Calm and collected even among mayhem, Riza Hawkeye strolled down another depilated street, clipboard and pen in hand as she took notes on damage. Her mind was numb as she tacked down another estimate of shop damage in a column on her sheet. The moment she had seen him had been so fleeting. Their eyes had met for only seconds before hot air blasted him towards the heavens and she was left on the street calling after him.

He had left her behind again and the pain of that realization ebbed its way into her chest. The only thing she could do to draw her mind from it was tack down numbers, take names, scribble notes, and bite at her lip as people rushed back and forth all around her. She was moving in slow motion in comparison. Her legs felt heavy and she couldn't bring herself to do a brisk jog down the streets as all the rest of the military personnel was.

"Major!" a voice squeaked from behind her. Riza turned on her heel and focused her eyes on a small man wearing glasses jogging her way and waving papers in the air above his head.

"Fuery. Word from command?"

"Yes. The Fuhrer is requesting an update on the civilian count, as well as your damage estimates so far."

Her eyes didn't betray her frustrations in her subordinates request. She understood the need for a rush on what she was doing, but her body wouldn't listen to what her mind knew she needed to do. it was still bogged down by the thoughts of that brief moment. Everything that had passed in that split second of gaze meeting gaze...

"Hawkeye?" She shook her head and looked over at Fuery who appeared have have been calling her for about a moment already. She took the pen tip from off her page and ripped it from its clipboard, handing it over to Fuery.

"Before you return that to HQ, also take a few more notes down. To the west end of HQ, the fencing is destroyed and will need to be completely rebuilt. The Library over to the east has two walls down and books are pouring out onto the street. The community is helping to regather. There is an estimated total of 78 houses that have been affected within the Central City limits, I am still waiting to hear from-" Riza paused in her debriefing of the city's cosmetic damage to look back over at Fuery. His pen had stopped scratching along the page, noting her every word. Instead his eyes were glued to a point just on the other side of her shoulder.

_No._

Eyeballing a few of the other military workers around her she could see that they were slowly starting to straighten themselves, looking past her to the point that Fuery had his eyes glued to.

She could feel him there, even before she saw him. His air of command had never left the man, even when he had requested to step down in rank and be shipped off to the far north. All around her, people still straightened themselves, stood with their boots heel to heel, and tried not to put their hands to their brow in a salute, something they had been actively trained to do.

She wasn't going to turn around. She wasn't going to look him in his smoldering dark eyes. She wouldn't give him the privilege.

The hush of the crowd around her made it possible to hear the approaching shuffle of two military issued black boots. The steps were slow, deliberate, and they were maybe twenty yards away from her. The smell of ash and campfire reached her nostrils and it overpowered everything she thought and felt. That smell, the familiar scent of fire and burning. Flames. She could smell it, so near her and within her reach.

Without her permission, her knees rattled unnoticeably in her large military pants. Her hands shook and she nearly dropped the clipboard she only just realized she had been clutching onto. The stray bits of blond that had fallen from her clip fell forward into her auburn eyes as she looked down at her eyes and noticed that the heels were together, legs straight, body erect and ready to salute. The actions were so habitual she hadn't even noticed doing so.

Fifteen yards.

She could just walk away, right now. Central command needed numbers for print, estimates for funding crunching, the city was partially destroyed and it was her duty to the state to help clear away the wreckage. She could just walk away...

Ten yards.

Something inside her snapped and against her better judgement, she twisted around slowly, eyes still glued to the ground before her. She squared her shoulders and grit her teeth together, a million waves of emotions coursing through every vein of her body. Relief, anger, confusion, sadness, excitement.

The shuffling sound became a grating noise in her ears as he grew closer and closer. She still had it in the back of her that she could turn around, stand tall, and walk off. She had no reason to say any words to him, nor give him the time of day to explain himself. But that was just it, she was going to. And as she continued to stare at the ground, a shiney black pair of boots appeared before her vision, standing only a foot or two away. Close enough that she could feel the weight of his stare.

And then, there was nothing. A piercing silence as about twenty-five pairs of eyes landed on them and she continued to stare downwards, ignoring every biting word that sprung to her lips. She bit her tongue to hard the taste of iron burst into her mouth, and yet she still said nothing, just sat in silence.

"Major Hawkeye."

In that very second her eyes flew from her feet and up onto the face of the man she had known since she was just a girl. He had always had the same handsome boyish features, except now they were aged with two years of grief and remission. His skin was pale, lips chaffed, eye heavy with lines of fatigue and wear. His body didn't fit his uniform as well as it once had, the fabric hanging off of his now thin frame. Their eyes met and she looked first into his deep colored right eye and then painfully into the black fabric of the eyepatch covering his left. The eyepatch that was there from her doing. That she could have prevented...

And then the man that she had not seen in two years did something very curious and unsettling to her. He drew himself to his full height, nearly a half foot taller then her own, set his hand against his forehead and slowly drew it into a salute. He stared into her eyes, once again saying, this time a little quieter, "Major Hawkeye."

Riza continued to stare at this man, saluting her so casually as if he had done it for years. She watched his body, unmoving yet covered in indefinable debris. It was curious the way he saluted her, staring at her, waiting for her to give the permission. It was something she had never planned on seeing in all her years.

"At ease Mustang," she replied, the words coming from her mouth as foreign, unnatural. They left a weird taste on her tongue, one that though she may try to spit it out, she knew would last. Her former superior let his hand drop back to his side, and his stance relaxed just a little but he still kept the airs of addressing someone of superior rank to himself.

Those around the two of them remained silent, still struck by the fact that the Flame Alchemist had come waltzing back into their lives. And here he was with his closest companion, the used to be 1st Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.

She suddenly outstretched her hand. The internal monologue that was whizzing by in Riza's mind screamed at her to stop her action, retract her hand back to her side and walk away, greeting over. But she was drawn to this moment, to the lines on his face that had been added from two hard years, to the milky pale in his skin having never seen the light for months. And drawn to the eyepatch that he now brandished around with him, a painful memory of a shot gone wrong.

Inches from his face, she hesitated before bringing her fingers against the cloth patch, lightly dancing her fingers around the edges, just barely gracing his skin. She felt the fabric, memorized the shape, even noticed the way he flinched away from her fingers, draining the flicker of emotion from his eye. She felt the patch, a glaring memory staring her in the face. One that she would rather wipe from existence.

She traced over the black, a few of his dark hairs tickling the skin of her hand. Her short tipped nails ran a line down his cheek and she felt the cool of his skin, warming slightly beneath her touch. He resisted the urge to melt into her caressing hand, and stayed firm, face portraying nothing.

A crisp slap rang through the air and a soft gasp went across the crowd that had stopped their clearing work to watch the return of Mustang. Riza's cheeks were puffed out, a slow hiss coming from her lips. Upon Roy's cheek was a bright pink hand print. His eyes had widened as he looked at her, and his hand went to grace the side of his cheek. The skin pickled where she had hit him, as if it was burning from the inside and eating his skin out. He could feel the tenderness beneath his light touch and dropped his hand back to his side.

The venom that came pouring from her eyes as she locked back onto him almost made Roy take a step back. Her body was bent over in a consumed sort of hatred and she wheeled up, brought her hand back, and laid it upon the opposite cheek, leaving him with two bright hand prints on either side of his face. Those that had been watching, embarrassed to be watching the spectacle between old friends, quickly turned back to what they were doing. Fuery gathered up the slack and timidly pressed on a few orders to the lower ranked military officials clearing away rubble. Most of those standing around found excuses to hurry down the street to another corner and away from the enraged gun toting woman.

Roy sighed as he saw the others move away from him and Hawkeye, leaving him at her mercy. A knot wound itself up in his stomach as he looked into her eyes and saw the spitfire hatred, the pent up frustration, and just a glimmer of... Was that pain?

"Hawkeye I-" he started before she flung another wild hand towards his face. His time a scowl worked its way onto his lips and grabbed a hold of her wrist, holding it tightly enough to keep her from budging without hurting her slender arm.

"Let me go you bastard!" she screamed, wiggling in his grasp. She shoved a hand into his chest hard enough for him to have to catch his breath, but he held tight.

"Goddamn it Mustang, let me go. Get your hand from off of me and never touch me again. Get out of my sight! Let me go, get out of here! I hate you!"

She stopped fighting against his hold as she shouted the last three words, and gazed over at him. Mustang held on, but loosened his grip, knowing she was done struggling. They both stared hard at one another, neither one of them flinching. He looked into her hypnotizing pools of auburn, the eyes that had haunted many a visions on his wintery north retreat. And she glared back, her brows knit together, her look spelling out murder and anger.

He looked deep into her eyes, looking for any sign of a hesitation, a flicker of doubt in her statement. Hate him? She couldn't possibly hate him in every way possible after all their years together. But he didn't see it. When he looked into her eyes all he saw was loathing, anger, animosity, and cold hard hatred. His grip on her wrist loosened all together and she wrenched her wrist away from and he stiffened, preparing for another blow to the face that never came.

Wounded by the disregard of who used to be the person closest to him, he looked on past her and at Fuery who even out ranked him at this point. The small man had turned back to look at him and caught his eye. Fuery came over to Riza's side and one could tell he fought with the instinct to raise his hand into a salute.

"Fuery, if you could escort me to HQ when you return with Major Hawkeye's reports I would be very much obligated."

"Yes C-, yes Mustang. Follow me."

Silently, Roy moved past Riza who had moved since he had let her go, body still shaking in a mountain of rage waiting to explode on something. He felt the rustle of their uniforms as they passed, the heat of her anger, and the hopelessness that there was nothing he could do to change that. And without another word passed between them, he followed Fuery towards the giant bland structure that was Central Headquarters.

When he was decently out of eye shot, he sighed and muttered under his breath, "I'm so sorry Hawkeye. I'm so sorry."

Not even Fuery heard him.


	2. Reinstated

Command had given Roy his old rank of Brigadier General. An office was cleared for him in Central and he was swept back into the old hustle of military life without complaint from anyone. A young Private whom he had no recollection of ever meeting hurried him to his new office. The Private appeared to only be in his twenties and rambled on to the alchemist at light speed. His nerves showed, and he was bursting with enthusiasm to be the one showing such a profound military figure around the new layout of HQ. Everything he said bounced off of Roy as he followed behind at a slow pace, ignoring the eyes preening around corners to snag a look at him. Had he really been gone that long? He saw only a few faces that he recognized and he nodded his head in regards to them.

The feeling of being back was surreal. Two years did not seem so long when he was away but being back he realized it felt like centuries. He felt old, battered. The patch over his damaged eye irritated his skin. His starched uniform felt too hot, and his legs felt like they were made of concrete. Every motion he made was with effort, pushed, and automatic. The journey from the front entrance through the long winding halls and past the numerous offices felt like a trek through the desert and he was happy when the Private opened an office door and led him into a large military office complete with the Amestris flag, wide desk, dull green couch, and empty shelves along the walls. He looked around at the familiar sight of a Central office and did something he hadn't in just over two years. Smiled.

"Um, Brigadier General?"

He looked down at the mousy Private that had escorted him, small smile vanished from his face. He was twiddling his thumbs and looking around anxiously as if he was a puppy waiting for some master's approval. "Is everything to your par? Do you need anything else?"

"No, you are free to leave. There is a lot that needs to be done out in the city, and I'm sure I will already have reports to look at. HQ never slacked when it came to paperwork."

The man nodded and scurried off, leaving Roy to himself. He lingered on the empty doorway for a brief second before closing it and turning around to look at his office. It was very much like his old one, maybe with new carpeting and different oak used for the desk. Otherwise it was just as dreary and plain as the one he had left. With an uncertain step he moved forward, his fingers running over the empty shelves, soon to be filled with books and papers and reports. His boots felt the plush of the newly installed carpet. He round the corner of the desk and slowly twisted the chair in his direction. He eyed it, unsure of whether he should sit. Rooted to the spot, staring at the dull green office chair a million memories flowed through his mind of days he had spent sitting in a chair very similar, men whirring by him, his subordinates small outbursts of chatter breaking into his concentration. It all seemed so far away from where he was at present.

The bones in his body aches slightly as he sat down, running his hands along the desk wood as he did so. There were three drawers on either side, a long small drawer right in front of him for his miscellaneous pens and paper scraps. As a Colonel he had stashed unfinished reports in there to do the next morning in order to avoid the wrath of his 1st Lieutenant.

The random memory struck him like a lead pipe and his face twisted into a look of anguish. The woman's harsh words echoed through his mind, _'I hate you!'_

It was to be expected, he shouldn't feel so surprised. Without warning, he had just left. There hadn't been a reason, not a note, he hadn't even looked for his team to see them all off before he left. He had just gathered a few precious items, which there were few, and parted to the wintery north as a lowly Corporal where he filled out reports on any outbreaks in the town, and did various other tedious tasks as they were asked of him. But why had he done it?

Hell even he couldn't answer that. The place on his cheek where Hawkeye had slapped him suddenly burned as if he had hit him all over again and he brought his hand up to brush the flesh. She had slapped him. Called him a bastard. She had she hated him. And he couldn't even blame her for her actions. He would have said the same were he in her shoes.

Her whole life she had dedicated to pushing him to the top. Helping him towards his selfish goal of becoming the next Fuhrer, which would have been achieved had he stayed in Central instead of running off with his tail between his legs. She had protected him, guided him, been his voice of reason, his rock. He had relied on her for everything. She had devoted her life to him and his needs and his goal, not thinking twice for her own well being. She had given him everything. And he had just left. He had left without one damn word! How could he be so selfish? So pigheaded?

"Damnit Mustang!"

He slammed a fist down on the top of the desk, hard, the sound of splintering wood echoing across the nearly blank walls. The action hurt and his fist throbbed but he barely felt it, his cheek still stinging from the slap.

There was a soft click and the long drawer before him popped open a few inches before him. Something white caught his eye and he pulled the drawer open. Before him, folded neatly together, was a pair of white gloves. His eyes widened and a gasp struggled in his throat as he reached out and grabbed one, running his fingers over the fabric to make certain they were the ones he had left before traveling north. It had been two years since he performed any alchemy and here it was, sitting in his hand. The back sides of the gloves had the familiar drawn lines of his fire alchemical symbols. He was caught off guard by seeing his gloves reappear before him, old friends he had denied for years, that he missed the apparent knock at his door.

His gaze was drawn up as a small group burst into the room, making all sorts of commotion. He quickly tucked the gloves away and stood to greet his new roomful of guests.

"Colonel!"

He glanced over the faces and recognized the group instantly. It was his old subordinates. Standing before him, two years aged but no different, were Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, and Vato Falman. Bringing up the rear was none other then Kain Fuery who he had had brief contact with earlier. They were all there, minus one...

"I'm a Brigadier General now you would be happy to know," he smirked at them all, plastering on the Roy Mustang thickly for first appearances.

"Always pulling rank. Nothings changed with you. Too chilly up there in the north?" Havoc pushed his way to the front of the group and sauntered over to his old commanders desk, cigarette end stuck between his lips.

"I heard there was a need for my service down here so I came as soon as I got the order."

"Hey Colonel, or should I say, Brigadier General," started Breda. "should we be expecting papers on our desks tomorrow with a request for command change?"

Roy mused on the thought for a second. It hadn't occurred to him to request his old team back, but he doubted that it would be denied by the higher ups. He swept his eyes over the group and the half pleading eyes of Fuery. He chuckled low and gave them a wink.

"If you are still willing to work like dogs, expect to be signed over to me by tomorrow morning."

There was a communal celebration as they all gushed about being back under Mustang's orders. In this buzz of excitement, they all missed another person entering the room and a shock of blond moved between the group.

"Havoc! Breda! Falman! Fuery! You all have orders to be out in the streets. What are you doing in the offices?"

Roy snapped over to Riza Hawkeye's slender frame, her stern eyes glaring around the men. They all had sheepish looks on their faces as they looked back at her, Havoc especially squirmed a little under her glance and they all muttered apologizes and something about wanting to see the old chief. In a hurry to be out of the way of her rampage his former men rambled off some congrats about the swifty promotion and were off through the door.

Riza lingered for a second longer then the rest of them, avoiding his eye which hadn't left her since she had walked in. The room was suddenly sweltering and he shifted uncomfortably, the silence ringing louder then any amount of words. He didn't even know where to start but it was the first time he had had her alone since his return and quick to say something, anything to get her to look at him, he opened his mouth and rambled.

"Hawkeye, look I-"

"Save it." She cut him off with a cold bite in her voice. "Congratulations on your promotion. The day starts promptly at eight-hundred hours tomorrow morning. Sharp."

She turned her back to him and walked out the door. It stood open for a second as she twisted back to close it. Placing her hand on the knob, she glanced up for a quick second and their eyes caught.

He looked deep into her gaze, looking for something, anything. Any spark of an emotion behind the raw anger he saw flashing in them now. His chest contorted up and he felt like his hands had gone into spasms as he saw none. Everything that was there was a cold, empty, blank stare of hatred.

"Good night Brigadier," she spat, and then closed the door behind her. She didn't slam it, she didn't have to. The tone, that look, the frigidness in her body motions had been enough.

Alone again, Roy threw himself into his chair and buried his face into his hands. He had shattered something again. He was always breaking things to pieces with no way of putting them back together.


	3. Tea After Midnight

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to TuTsXxX and sweetdeath04 who were my first two reviewers and added this story to their favorites. Thanks a bundle dearies. Even two review means I'm doing something right!**

Due to the high volume of activity that had taken place at Central, it was late before Riza finally returned home to her small military issued apartment just outside of the HQ gates. Black Hayate was dutifully waiting for her at the door, and she bent down to provide him with a tender hand before grabbing his empty dish. Tossing some papers on her table, she strolled to the kitchen and flicked on a light, shedding her clean and orderly apartment in a dim glow. It almost looked like no one lived there besides a few personal objects scattered throughout the room. A coat, shoes, a few picture frames, some books laid out on the coffee table, and a mug of cold tea which had been left in her hasty leave in the morning.

"Here boy," she said as she swooped down and placed the now full dish before her small dog. He nosed at the food with appreciative grunts as he ate, occasionally looking up at his owner who wore a troubled expression. Abandoning the food, he went over to nuzzle her leg, sensing her unease and minor distress.

She looked down, comforted by the small action, the frown she had been wearing ebbing away slightly. "Guess who came back today?" she asked in a light voice, as if uttering the statement might snap it in half and make his return vanish in thin air.

"The Colonel came back today. He rode in on his shining white horse and heroically saved all of Central City with the help of the Elric brothers. Isn't that crazy Black Hayate? After two years, he's come back, and it looks like he is staying. The Colonel..."

Her hands sought for the edge of her counter and she gripped the marble until her knuckles hurt. A wince slipped out of her mouth as she felt the nerves crunching, but taking comfort in the stress on her white-knuckled hands, she continued with her grip. It was everything she could do to keep herself from going in hysterics. Throwing shoes, breaking mirrors, possibly punching one of her hard plastered walls. It was strange that on the day of his return she should be in as much upheaval as when he had first left. The days had an eerie similarity.

When Mustang had disappeared, the military had passed a few hushed whispers about the whys and wheres. Riza hadn't found out until the next morning, the stacks of transfer papers fresh on her desk. She had kept composed for the whole day, going about her assigned tasks, signing papers, interacting with her comrades as if nothing had happened. It wasn't until her return home that day when she exploded into a flurry of emotions and words. She had thrown things, broken a window, cracked a wall, threw glasses, plates, anything she could get her hands on. Her neighbors later reported hearing various shouts of curses and profanities into the late hours of the night.

The next day she had come in, her eyes sunken in from a long night of unrest. More curious was the unexplainable bandage on her hand that only she knew had gotten there from an ill placed coffee mug being crushed in her grasp, the glass shards shoving themselves deeply into her flesh. When asked she shrugged it off as a clumsy spill down a couple stairs.

Her episodes of rage and anguish continued for a week, but she never betrayed a single thing during the day at work, around the others. After that she had just grown numb, oblivious to the heaviness that pressed on her chest.

She wasn't going to let that happen again. She wouldn't get hysterical and throw things across the room. She wouldn't scream until her throat grew hoarse. She wouldn't let it effect her. He had left, he had come back. It was what it was and that was the most she would make of it.

Riza released the countertop, her knuckles aching a little from her grip. A glance at the clock told her it was well after midnight, and she knew she had an early morning. But she knew the sleep wouldn't come and it would be a restless night once again. Running some water from the sink she set a kettle to boil and withdraw a teabag from her cupboard. A knock at the door drew her from her thoughts and actions. She turned, surprised at first but then settled into a quiet understanding.

Pacing over, she opened the door and looked into a familiar blue stare.

"Jean."

Wordlessly he moved in and took her into his arms, burying his face into her blond hair, the smell of lavender greeting his nose. His body towered over hers, his larger frame easily engulfing her smaller one. She stood, wordlessly in his hold, taking a moment of soothing reassurance in his warm embrace. He released her after a few seconds and brought his gaze back onto hers. They expressed no words, just looked and she opened the doorway wider, allowing him entrance into her house.

He had been there that first night Roy had left, hushed words drawing her back to sanity, his grasp holding her shaking body close to his, keeping her from further destruction of her apartment. The smell of ash and cigarettes was so close to that of ignition spark and burning fire she had been able to lose herself in his arms and they had sat for hours that first night in silence. He had nursed her wound, sanitizing it, wrapping it, putting her to bed before she could start ripping hair from her head.

Every night that week he had visited, cleaning her messes, putting her to bed and staying close by on her couch, tirelessly staying awake should she need anything throughout the night. He never mentioned the cries he heard coming from her room. Nor the half-crazed monologues she would tirelessly talk over and over again to herself, saying how everything was her fault. How it could all have been avoided had she executed the plan perfectly. He witnessed the downfall of Riza Hawkeye and he had been there to pick up the pieces.

He went over to her couch and sat down as she returned to the kitchen, taking out another mug for him. "Tea Jean?" she asked, already knowing the answer. Earl Grey with a spoonful of milk. His favorite.

He watched her move about the kitchen, tending to the near boiling water, taking out some honey and milk, warming it for his tea.

It had been a month after Roy left and he had still continued with his nightly visits to Riza's apartment. She never disagreed to him coming by at every late hour, and he was never disgruntled about resting on her couch, bunched up to fit his long frame on the small surface. But this night had gone differently. He was settling her into bed when suddenly she had grasped his uniform front and pulled him close to her. His lips hung close to hers and she had looked up at him with those clear amber eyes before pressing forward, taking his into hers and kissing him deeply. Confused and unsure whether to press on or stop he had gathered her shoulders into his hands and pushed her away from him and back onto her bed where she sat looking slightly crestfallen.

"Go to sleep Riza," he had said quietly, turning to go but she stopped him again, grabbing onto his sleeve this time. He turned back to look at her, her eyes so full of hurt and need.

"Jean. Please. Stay. Just for tonight. Stay with me."

That night, one month after _he_ had left, he had stayed with Riza in her bed, their nude bodies pressed against each others. Her hands gripped him tight as if afraid to lose him and he stared at the ceiling as her breathing evened out and he knew she had passed off into sleep. That night he thought about many things. He thought about the toll that the Colonel's leaving had taken on the woman beside him. He thought about the way her blond strands splayed across his chest, the way their eyes locked when he was pressing himself inside of her, the way he had murmured her name and the way she had refused to say his.

The memories of that night came about to Jean as he stared over at her, making their tea. Her bottom lip was in the clutches of her teeth, a habit she had adopted the past two years when she was nervous, frazzled, or in deep thought. He assumed that tonight it was a combination of the three. The kettle on the stove began to sing and she hurried to turn down the heat and pour out the hot contents, placing a bag in each mug and then the hot water, steam pouring out the tops. Chai with a spoonful of honey. Her favorite.

Looking away from her he glanced at her table where some papers she had thrown were scattered . Reaching over to straighten them, something caught his eye and pulled one sheet up to read.

"REQUEST FOR REPOSITION

Major Riza Hawkeye, as of-" he skimmed the first few lines and skipped to the bottom of the sheet.

"Reposition with promotion to Lieutenant Colonel under Brigadier General and Flame Alchemist Roy Mustang to be stationed in Central HQ.

Signed

Fuhrer Grumman

Brigadier General Roy Mustang

Brigadier General Hason James*

Undersigned"

And there was a blank line waiting for her signature for approval. He had in fact received the very same piece of documentation earlier that evening and had promptly signed it, not thinking twice about returning to a position under Mustang.

"Riza," he started. She appeared at his side, brandishing two mugs piping hot with tea and handed one to him, settling down beside him, her body curving easily into his. Her eyes looked over at what she was holding and a flash of emotion passed through her gaze. Was it anger? He put on an apologetic grin and slipped it back on the table. "Didn't mean to be nosey. It's just that I got the same papers today."

"Oh."

"Well I signed mine off, but without a promotion."

"Mmm."

Jean put his hand through his hair, and looked up, holding the hot cup of tea, unsure exactly what to say. She swept in and easily took over the silence, easily knowing exactly what to say. She pressed a warm lipped kiss to his cheek and stood, gathering his hand in her own and looked down at him with a small smile.

"Let's not discuss work. Come to bed?"

Jean smiled back at her and stood, placing a hand low on her waist and gathering her into a deep mouthed kiss before letting her go. She turned and went off into the room with the bed that he knew well at this point, leaving the door open for him to come in after her. He glanced down at the paper once more, the blank signature line standing out to him before blinking and letting the thought leave this mind. Taking a sip of his tea and burning his tongue, he followed Riza into the bedroom and closed to the door behind him.

**A/N: So for all of you guys fiending for some Royai time, I will give you some heads up. This will be a fanfic where the romance is taken at a much slower pace then what I have read in other fanfics. I feel that this makes the final product much more appreciated then a sloppy kiss by chapter three. And for those with questions about the standing of Riza and Havoc that is answered either next chapter or the one after, haven't decided yet. But I figured I would give a brief teasing overview in this chapter. Please review and let me know your thoughts so far!**

**~Splenda**


	4. Coffee Before Noon

**A/N: I know, I know. Havoc/Riza. I always imagined him swooping in where Roy had failed. But I am a diehard Royai fan to the end. And trust me, this won't be a forever situation. But as I said, I'm taking the romance silly slow because I want that first instance of Royai to be sweeter then any dollop of ice cream. Until then, enjoy the Havoc and Riza! They really **_**would**_** work well if Roy wasn't in the picture. Too bad he is now. ^_^**

**A/N2: Anne Packrat, you are such a winner so full of win. When I was watching the series/writing the first couple of chapters I was like hmmm, Brosch does not seem right but ok I will write it down. NOW I KNOW WHY! So much love for you. Also, I'm a fan of your work!**

Jean woke first. It didn't happen often so he delighted himself in the still quiet house, the warm presence next to him, the sheer beauty of the golden haired woman as she slept beside him. Her body moved slowly with every breath she took, her face nuzzled into the pillow, Black Hayate asleep at her feet. Had he looked closer he might have been able to see the scowl that was etched on her sleeping face. He considered waking her, possibly with a soft kiss to the forehead but decided against it, rising from under the covers and slopping on something to wear before moving out into the living room. It was early, the sun had only just begun to show its rays, the natural light floating through the spaces in the shutters. The apartment had a comforting lull of silence about it as its main inhabiter continued to sleep.

He went into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. Coffee in the mornings, tea at nights. That was the habit he had grown into on his days and nights in Riza Hawkeye's apartment. It was a slow quiet kind of living the days he was over which were many or few depending on the week.

They had developed a sort of ongoing affair. They never gave it a name. She never said she had a boyfriend and he never said he was seeing anyone, and they never presented the question to one another. It was simple and easy. He would come at nights, share some laughter, possibly some quiet reading. The things they did in the privacy of her apartment changed by the day. Sometimes she would challenge him to a game of chess, a favorite she said she had picked up from her grandfather. Sometimes they would just sit and talk for hours while she cleaned the barrels of her gun. About nothing in particular, just filling each other up with conversation, smiling and laughing with one another.

Sometimes they went to his place but she didn't like the way it smelt of cigarette smoke. Said it reminded her too much of the smell of fire. He had cut down on his smoking since then, rarely smoking anything before coming over and never even taking a drag the entire time he was at her place. It was the small things like that which they each appreciated about each other.

Havoc hadn't expected to be anything more then common subordinates with Riza Hawkeye. In fact, he wasn't sure what had brought him over here in the first place that fateful night two years ago. He had heard Mustang had left in the morning, just like everyone else. He was as upset as the next one of his colleagues that had worked for years under him, but it seemed that Riza was the only one that remained unfazed that day. He had caught glimpses of her throughout the day, working at her desk filling reports with her head down as if eclipsed in her own world. In the cafeteria sitting with others and talking about the weeks duties and things that still needed to be accomplished. Finishing up that night she had left with a small smile on her face as she wished the others a good night. Maybe that was it. There had been something in that smile. A hollowness, an empty bitter feeling and he sensed it oozing off of her.

That night instead of taking his usual route home, he had skipped over to the next block and to her apartment. A few doors away that's when he heard it. The crash of plates smashing against the ground and the cries of her shrill voice. He burst through the apartment and saw her nursing a cut on her hand and had gathered her up and placed her on the couch. She had been hysterical, screaming things at him, telling him to leave and let her carry on.

The ting of the coffee pot drew him from his thoughts. The apartment had the deep aroma of coffee beans wafting through the air. He poured himself a cupful and took it as is the to couch. Black coffee, his favorite. He would make hers in a few moments and go to wake her.

Everything about them was carefree, effortless. He forgave her sometimes quick temper, her compulsive cleanliness, Black Hayate's occasional need to chew on his shoes. He forgave her for the few times she had moaned someone else's name that they both thought was never coming back. Her occasional look of otherworldliness when on the brink of a climax. As if she were in a different bed and his hair were raven black and not sand blond. He forgave her many things and cherished much more. She wasn't perfect, nor was he. He was sloppy, had a wandering eye for curvaceous bodies, and sometimes was in the habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. But she forgave him this and they moved past.

After two two years one could hardly say it was just sex, but at the same time there was nothing more to it. He knew there never could be. It's hard to dance around the idea of a relationship when there were three players in the picture. Riza didn't need to say it. He could feel it in the way she looked deep into his eyes and simple longing look she would have wishing that they were a smoldering black. Or the way her hands explored his chest, hoping to find battle scars that weren't there. When their hands were intertwined she would trace a pattern on the back sides of them as if tracing an alchemical sign. He had none of these things, nor would he ever and he was ok with that, mostly. He knew what she was all about before he hopped into the bed with her and it hadn't changed, it just grew easier for her to hide.

Jean knew what they had and it didn't need to be explained. He wasn't going to say that he was in love with her but he knew the way his heart quivered when she was near and the way his breathing increased when they brushed in the halls. No he wasn't going to say that he was in love with Riza Hawkeye, but he wasn't going to deny it should she ever ask.

The papers on the table hadn't moved from where she had left them the last night, the request for reposition form still on top from when he had laid it down. His eyes were glued it to and the coffee in his had almost forgotten. Leaning forward he plucked it up from the table and scanned the sheet again.

'Brigadier General Roy Mustang.'

A sudden emotion twanged through his being and he felt the need to spit, smoke a cigarette, punch a wall. Something, anything. This man had brought this woman falling into his arms and somewhere in the back of his mind he felt like he would be the one to wrench her away. He knew long ago the way they had looked at one another, their eyes catching for just a few extra seconds then was necessary, the meticulous time she took in watching his well being, the way she had cursed herself for letting him get hurt. And he knew in that instant what it was he was feeling.

Envy.

He struggled to stash the raging emotion away, throw it back into his belly where it would sit and coil and wait to strike out. She wasn't and never was exclusively his. They had never declared themselves any sort of "item". Were she to make eyes at the old Colonel or fall into his arms without a second thought, it wasn't for him to put down a fist and object. But their two years together were hard to lock up and stash away and pawn off as nothing.

A scowl marred his face as he looked down at the name and his fingers clutched the paper a little tighter, crinkling the edges in his grasp. Yes he felt envy. Did he need to? His thoughts turned to the icy way she had left his office last night. And he remembered Fuery's retelling of her sudden outburst on the streets when he had reappeared before her. He was wary, but he wasn't going to turn into some possessive man and barrage the woman with ultimatums and questions of their legitimacy. Roy Mustang had returned, he was in the picture and while he wasn't sure how things would play out, only time would tell. And time was on his side. Riza had been beside him asleep for two years now.

A yawn broke his train of thought and he looked over to see Riza emerge from the bedroom. He quickly let the paper fall back on the table and stood, his coffee still in hand. She looked stunning, her blonde hair falling around her face still bed tangled. She had put on his work button up from yesterday, the white shirt falling to grace her mid thigh, her creamy long legs still showing.

"Have I ever told you that you look the best when you wake up in the morning?" he asked with a wink. "Coffee?"

Riza looked at him, almost taken aback with his sudden proclamation. Her lips settled into a smile and she nodded, walking over to him and gently pressing him back onto the couch. "Don't worry. I will get myself a cup." She brushed her lips against a forehead before walking over to the kitchen. Black Hayate trotted out of the room after his master, saw Jean, and tromped over the couch and curled up beside him.

"Did you sleep well? You woke up earlier then usual."

"Only by a few minutes. I couldn't sleep over your snoring Riza."

She laughed her warm cheerful laugh and he heard the clinking of a spoon against a glass as she stirred in her honey and milk, the way she took coffee. It was only a few seconds before she settled onto the couch beside him, curling her legs up beneath her body. He found that the Riza behind closed doors was a tad more affectionate then she would have be known to anyone else. His eyes were once more drawn down to the table and the paper sitting atop all the rest.

'Brigadier General Roy Mustang.'

Suddenly he couldn't remain quiet. "Are you going to sign that?" he asked bluntly.

Riza's eyes widened and she looked down to where he was looking. Of course he was asking about the reposition. She couldn't hold herself back from a heavy sigh and pursed her lips against her coffee cup and took a sip.

"Ouch," she muttered, scalding her lip.

"You're evading the question and burning yourself won't stop me from asking," said Jean looking over at her with a half amused face before returning to full seriousness. "So?"

She regarded the question for a moment as she blew on the hot liquid, attempting to cool it down. She rolled over the possibilities. It was in fact the question she had been asking herself all day and for most of the day last night after Jean had thought she had fallen asleep. There were pros and cons to both answers. What she asked herself was if she would be able to stand working in such close proximity again. She looked back over at Jean who was still awaiting an answer.

"I don't think it matters whether I do or not. What does it matter?"

"What it matters is..." Jean stopped suddenly. It didn't actually matter that much. It only really mattered to him and his envious mind. But he had to know so he blurted the first blasphemous lie that came to his lips. "Well I just wanted to know how close we would be working so I would know how much I would need to contain myself at work." He even threw in a wink for a believable lie.

Riza blinked, not sure whether she should believe him or not. Better judgement told her no but he presented it in a way that was unquestionable sweet and she tilted her head to the side, sly grin on her face. "Contain yourself ey?"

"Well y'know how I get around women sometimes."

"You never used to have troubles working around me."

"I never used to be this with you."

She acknowledged his last statement with little more then a small slurp of her coffee before reaching down and picking the form up. "Gotta pen?"

Jean looked down and tapped the pockets of the shirt he was wearing before looking over to the one she was. "Uhhh..." reaching over he timidly reached into the breast pocket of his work shirt that Riza had donned, his fingers grazing the delicious curve of her chest, and withdrew a pen. He brandished it before her, Riza snatching the thing from his hand.

"Thanks," she commented sarcastically. "Now turn around please."

"Huh?"

"Just turn around," Riza demanded, shoving his shoulder so she could get a clean angle at his back. He twisted around and felt her press up against him. And then, just barely, he felt the neat scribble over her handwriting as she scrawled her signature along the line to accept the reposition.

"Done!" she exclaimed, tossing the paper down and staring at her loopy handwriting. She had sealed her fate. There wasn't a return now. She had placed herself back under his command. Something flit about in her stomach and she would have considered it nerves if Havoc didn't press her down against the couch.

"Now that work is out of the way, we do have some time to kill before the day starts," he murmured with a sly grin as he pressed butterfly kisses along her collarbone and down the crevice of her chest. She pushed him away, squirming out from under his grip.

"Jean I have to shower and take these papers in so I will be going in earlier then expected. No time. Now let me up."

She stood from the couch and placed her coffee down on the table. She would just have to take it with her on the go this morning. Hurrying into the bathroom she swung around the doorframe to look behind her back at the table, once more at the paper to which she had signed her name.

Once again she was under Roy Mustang and all it took was a penstroke.

**A/N: That makes two Riza/Havoc centric chapters in a row. I believe you guys will get some Roy POV next time around.**


	5. Memories of a Past

**A/N: Anne Packrat: I can't argue with my OTP, but I'm still not sure how this will all end up. Hell you should see my note tabs I have since writing down the first chapter. It's been a roleplay plot that I have been itching to do for ages but since I always fail to find myself a Roy to my Riza (my Roy is shoddy as hell), I figured I would just write it out. But I have notes scrawled everywhere for this one. RUN GUYS! Your author has no clue where she is headed. Except that Roy was indeed an ass.**

Roy mused on the week that had passed since his return. Everything fell into place as if he had never been gone. His desk was always stacked with a line up of forms and reports. His old colleagues dropped by for small chats about this and that. Fuhrer Grumman had invited him by for a game of chess, that he lost. Hell, he had been granted his old set of subordinates back. Well, he had gotten them all back, but something was entirely different. His right hand, his protector, his guardian, and the woman he used to brighten up everyday when he saw, now regarded him with a stone cold stoic nonchalance. Her only words to him were about something involving the state of affairs of Amestris and things he should look over, or basic greetings in the morning and evening.

The walk to his tiny rent house right outside of Central HQ that night he reflected on the week and all that was new and different. Although his thoughts eventually became entirely engulfed with her. Everything had changed. Her demeanor, her attitude, the tone of her voice. At a time they had been able to read each other by just a mere glimpse of the eyes. Now he could hardly tell what she was thinking or feeling and he could spend hours staring at her from across the office.

There were daggers in her stare whenever they exchanged a glance. Ice dripped from her every word. She even took pains that they should never pass down the same hallway together alone. He wasn't sure if this was because she thought he would try and strike up a conversation or simply because were she confronted with him alone she would take out a trusted gun and shoot him point blank.

Oh how he had longed for the day when they would be reunited again. In the north where he was far from all friends and allies, it was her face that he pictured almost daily. Their talks of a brighter future and goals he had hoped to achieve that filled his mind. He was driven crazy to remember every tiny detail about her. The way she alternated the color studs she wore in her ears every other week. Pink. Purple. Pink. Purple. Or which module gun she had stashed in which hiding spot. Or even the way her hair was always clipped in the exact same two folds to the back of her head.

He couldn't shake their first meeting from out of his mind. Sure she had screamed after him when he was shooting off in his air balloon. The look of desperation on her face wasn't hidden by any mask. It was after that, when she had drew a hand and slapped him hard, twice. Spat words of venom at him. Called him a bastard, screamed for him to let her go as if his touch was poison. And when she had said those fateful words.

Only growing angry with himself for expecting any different, Roy ran fingers through his hair and shook himself of the thoughts. It wouldn't help to linger on it anymore. He would keep trying to work past her hatred. He would strive for it everyday they were in the office. He had broken everything they had and now he would fix it, solely.

The yapping bark of a dog got him to perk his eyes up from the ground and he looked about him. He had been blindly walking, so engulfed in thoughts, that he didn't realize he had come to the block of his living space. All military quarters were in the same drab, four story high apartments. They twisted in all sorts of directions, hundreds of rooms packed together in complexes to accommodate the multitude of serving men. He had managed to snag a small, shabby apartment on the other side among a row of civilian apartments.

As he rounded the corner out, the barking grew louder and he looked around for the mutt that was making the racket when it was almost after midnight. What worthless master couldn't keep their dog to stay quiet? When he found the source he stopped dead in his tracks, gaping. Black Hayate, leashed and bouncing around excited about something, was jumping up the stairwell, Riza at his side looking only moderately frustrated at his yammering. He bit his lip before he was able to call out to her and just watched her move up the stairs.

"Bad dog. What has gotten into you?" he could hear her scold.

She continued on past level two and started up the stairs again to level three. His mind went into overload as he thought about Riza, her living quarters, the proximity to his, and now he stood there rooted to the spot. It was the first time he had seen her outside of work this whole week and now he was as useless as if it were raining out. He continued to stare over at her, loose blond hair out of its usual bun bouncing around her face.

Something at the back of his mind kicked into gear and suddenly he found himself moving again. Not only moving, dashing across the lot, up the stairs four at a time, desperate to catch up to her. As he got closer he noticed she had stopped as Black Hayate had and was now barking in his direction. _Ten more steps. Six more steps._

He rounded the stairwell corner and then stood face to face with the gun vixen herself. Black Hayate silence himself once he came into sight, his tail wagging back and forth as if happy to see the alchemist. They stood in silence looking at one another, his mouth hanging open as if he were a damned fool, her face struggling to compose itself into some kind of emotion. Contempt was what it settled on and he saw her eyes narrow at him. "Come boy," she muttered to her dog, turning to leave.

"Hawkeye wait!" he exclaimed, leaping the last step, grabbing onto the edge of her sleeve.

"Wait what?" she hissed low. "Wait come back Hawkeye, let me explain? Wait Hawkeye, there's a reason I swear. Wait Hawkeye I didn't mean it. Hawkeye no, just listen to me? Which one will it be this time, eh Colonel? I'm sorry, Brigadier. You must have some lucky stars to be promoted after ditching for two years."

He was baffled on anything to say. His mouth moved but nothing came out, a wordless gaping void. He could have kicked himself for both his lack of courage and wasting his only chance to spill a thousand and one apologies.

"What is it? Am I right? Is that all you ran up here to say to me? Oh Hawkeye I'm so sorry. Did you leave _and_ lose your fighting spirit up there too? The Colonel I knew would be trying every sweet toothed trick in his book to sway me."

Silence fell over them again as she stood, looking down upon him. Her eyes searched his face, awaiting a response that never came. Huffing about how he had ever wasted her time tonight, she turned once again to leave.

_Dammit Mustang!_

"I had no choice!" he shouted after her. She stopped mid step, looking back over her shoulder at him. He hadn't wanted to tell her here, in the stairwell next to her home, her glaring him down as he stumbled to eloquently defend himself. He took a step closer, but with his step forward she took another back, maintaining the same distance between them. He released a heavy sigh and looked down at the ground.

"I couldn't handle it. Everything the Elrics went through and I didn't do a damn thing, everything I did and committed in the past, what happened at King Bradley's mansion..." he trailed off, his hands forming into fists. "That kid died in my arms back there Hawkeye. I felt his last breaths and there was nothing I could do! And his eyes, those eyes so confused and hurt, just like the eyes of-"

He cut off as the memories of thousands of faces he looked into as he ripped into them, sending them into a fiery nightmare. So many he had killed. And he hadn't even been able to help the Elrics and more had died for nothing but a stupid stone. And then that boy. "I saw them everytime I closed my eyes. I could hear their screams, see their fearful eyes, I woke up from dreams where I was drenched in Ishvalan blood. And then even when I woke up I could still see that boy's eyes looking at me-"

Roy knew he sounded pathetic. And weak. She had been through the same war as him. A war that had been over for quite some time now and he was still moping on about it when she was standing before him, strong as ever, unfazed by the nightmares that still continued to haunt them.

"Damnit Hawkeye," he slammed his fist into the granite beside him, reveling in the pain of knuckle against a hard surface. "It was selfish of me, I know. Selfish, weak, and I feel like a coward but goddammit I didn't come back here to be given a cold shoulder by you!"

This time when he looked back at her his eyes were the angry ones and she bore surprise at his sudden change in nature. The truly bizarre was that Riza couldn't read where the anger was being directed. Himself for leaving, her for her constant stone walling, or the situation. And because of his sudden twist in mood, she had no idea how to reply. There were words that had of course sprung to her lips that she instantly wanted to say. Reassure him that she knew the feeling, shared the nightmares. Forgave him all because she had thought about doing the same thing. But then something poked back into her brain and she mulled over his words. He had left for him. He hadn't thought about the possibilities of staying in Central City where she was. The one person that would understand.

"You fool."

"W-What?" Roy stammered.

"And here I thought you couldn't get anymore pig headed then when you first left without a word to anyone you supposedly cared for. But Brigadier, you seemed to have topped yourself and proved me wrong." Riza tugged on Black Hayate's leash to follow her away. "Come boy."

"Hawkeye there is so much more to it than that. If you would just take the time to listen," he was half pleading at this point but he knew he had lost the battle tonight as she neared her apartment door and slipped the key in the lock.

"We're done here."

She slipped into the darkness that was her apartment before he had time to come up with another begging utter to get her to come back. Once again he slammed a fist into the concrete wall beside him, and he heard a knuckle pop but he disregarded the shoot of pain that shot down his hand.

"Dammit."

**XxX**

Riza nearly toppled Havoc over as she entered her apartment. He had been at the door when she entered which meant... Had he heard her conversation with Roy?

"Oh Riza, I was just coming to see if that was you out there. I thought I heard your voice. Who were you talking to?"

"No one," she quickly lied. Riza didn't know why she felt the need to hide that she had just met with Roy for a few moments from Jean. But she was going to avoid the conversation it would bring up. Instead, she slipped off her light jacket and tossed aside Black Hayate's leash from his collar before turning on Havoc.

"Just a neighbor, now come here."

"Oh?" He closed the gap between him and she threw herself into his arms, her lips connecting to his in deep passionate kisses. They trailed to pecks along his cheek, along the collarbone of his neck where she placed a tiny nibble. Nimble fingers worked to loosen the buttons on his shirt, impatient to remove it from his body, tonguing working in compliance with her teeth and lips. He elicited a throaty moan.

"Riza, jesus!"

"Let's go to bed," she ordered, not said, and pulled him over towards the door, still placing kisses along his neck, and tickling his ear with little licks. They stumbled all over each other before they fell onto the bed, tearing each others clothes off.

That night they didn't make love. Riza's animal instincts emerged and she was wild, tossing about, clawing into his back, begging for more. She bit and scratched, ripped at his hair. While he had never been one to mix a lot of pain with pleasure, when she lost control like this it was impossibly erotic for him. And when they had both topped the final hump of the ride, they fell atop each other, her now tangled and ratted hair messily thrown about her head like a golden halo. Their chests heaved to catch a breath and sweat glistened off their chests and thighs.

Riza was the first to roll over, curling her legs closer to her body and Havoc laid one arm across her, kissing the bare skin of her shoulders and upper back, going tenderly over the scarred flesh.* Her breathing settled and slowed and she was asleep far before him.

Jean rolled the opposite way once she had drifted away and furled his brows together. She hadn't screamed his name that night. It had been an entirely different name, a whole different man she had been in bed, tearing to shreds between moans and thrusts, bites and nails.

'_Dammit.'_

**A/N: *note on Riza's back tattoo. I just finished watching Brotherhood, literally today. And while I don't want to cross them over with each, I will be taking liberal amounts of information from both the 2003 and 2009 animes. Yes *****possible spoilers***** Riza has the secrets of Flame Alchemy on her back, and yes Roy did burn it under her request.**

**Other then that I thank my reviewers so far! You guys are lovely and really the only reason I am satisfied in keeping this going with quick updates.**


	6. It's the Little Things

**A/N: Sorry for the late update. Been busy working making that paper, and I just got diagnosed with mono so I'm pretty much bed ridden and exhausted all the time. Plus this is a semi-filler chapter and I don't know if it will be that long but I want to get to the next chapter because it has been in my head for a week now! I just want to write it already. So without further delay here is this chapter! Enjoy.**

**Oh, warning. No dialogue chapter, Roy's POV.**

There were very a few occasions when Roy fell into the familiar comforts of a glass of liquor. In Ishval it had been the biting harshness of vodka. After Maes Hughes had been murdered in cold blood it had been scotch, smooth going down but like fire in the throat and stomach. And after he had lost his eye, will to fight, and his Lieutenant when he went North it had been the sweet caress of rum, the aftertaste singed with sugary bite. Tonight he went to his cabinets and looked up at the dark glass bottles for a touch of comfort and looked past his familiar poisons. Shoving the bottles aside he reached towards the back and withdrew a green bottle filled with clear liquid.

Gin.

Popping the top he immediately smelled the pungent spirits wafting up to him. A new friend to familiarize himself with. What he had to drink to he wasn't sure. If anything he was going to toast to a thousand mistakes and a hundred regrets. He went to grab a wide, short glass, but as his hand lingered over it he passed it by and instead took one down that was just a little wider and a little taller, then proceeded to pour himself a glass. He took it straight, not bothering to water it down, all in one large gulp.

The sting hit him as soon as the liquid filled his mouth and he had to force it down before coughing, hitting a fist to his chest. There it was, the same warmth he felt everytime he stooped to taking shots. He looked at the empty glass in his hand and the still mostly full bottle he had set on the counter. He quickly knocked another back before taking the bottle and glass with him into his modest, yet bare, living quarters where he slumped into the couch, rubbing two fingers over his temples.

"Roy, what have you managed to do?"

The liquor spread through his bodies and a comforting warmness settled into his chest, throat, and face. He knew he was halfway drunk but he didn't care. It was just one of those nights. It had been an hour since his conversation with Riza on the stairwell and it the words were still sinking in. She had called him a fool, pig headed. Hell, she may as well have said he was the self-centered, egocentric, fat fraud she had ever met. He couldn't erase that look in her eyes from his mind. The way it pierced into him, broke him down, made him want to wallow along the ground and beg for her forgiveness. Beg for things to be the way they were.

"_Did you leave and lose your fighting spirit up there too?"_

He sounded so pathetic, like a pup without a master. But he felt so lost. For years she had been there at his right hand, quick to draw the gun on a threat, calculate and observe, advise him even when others looked upon her actions as outspoken. He had relied on her entirely and she had relied on him. Their working relationship went without words and she was the only person he could ever trust entirely. They had been through so much together, and now it was as if she had thrown all that away. It was his fault.

The empty glass of gin seemed to almost refill itself as he sat up to take in another mouthful, the burn welcoming.

Roy Mustang set the glass back down, empty again, and eyed the liquor hungrily. He had hit a new low and he cursed himself for being so damn pitiful. The Roy from a few years ago would have spat in his face and put him out of his misery. He was moping around in a pool of self-hatred as if...

He chuckled to himself and pondered on the blond haired shrimp he had last seen running off to secure the portal which had brought him back. Yes, the way he was carrying on at present he would have mistaken himself for the older, and far more morbid, Elric brother. He picked up the bottle again and poured himself one more drink, already swaying back and forth a little on his couch. He could feel the drunkenness creeping over him.

He stood and shuffled over to his window and pushed the blinds back to look up at the starless sky. He was out there somewhere and he hoped that Alphonse was with him. After all the trouble they went through.

"Here's to you shrimp," he toasted, raising his glass to the sky. "because I understand the depth of your self-loathing, and hell kid. Makes me hate myself a little more that I'm even comparing the two of us."

He lifted the glass to his lips, took in the aroma of the strong drink, and tipped his head back, taking it all in one sip. As he lowered his glass, pressing against his window for support, something across the way caught his eye and he opened the blinds wider to catch a better look. A familiar tall blond was leaning against the side of Riza's apartment door. While he couldn't be too sure of the person in question just by their rough appearance, the telltale sign of Jean Havoc was the white cloud of smoke hanging around his face as he dragged on a cigarette.

"What?" he slurred, gawking through the window panes hoping to catch a better look. There was no mistaking it, that was Jean Havoc casually smoking right outside of Hawkeye's without a care in the world. But... why?

As if on cue, the female gun slinger crept from out of the door and over to Havoc's side. Her arms were crossed, and he could almost visualize the look of reproach on her face. Yes she was probably reprimanding him for his smoking so close to her place of residence. Sure enough, he saw Riza lean forward and remove the cigarette butt from his lips and throw it over the rail. But what was curious was when she wrapped her arms around him and placed her head against his chest. Roy shrunk back into his curtains, a wary eye on the two of them. She was embracing him? Not scolding him for his cancer sticks?

And then, much to Roy's surprise, she leaned up and the two kissed. He ran a hand through her hair as she held him close by the collar of his shirt. It was a short, sweet kiss and they exchanged a few words before he took her by her hand and led her back into her apartment. Speechless, confused, and struggling with an overwhelming rush of jealousy, Roy turned his back from the window and looked down at the glass in his hands.

Seconds later it was in shards on the other side of the room.

He didn't understand. How could this happen? Had Havoc gracefully swooped in and charmed her off her feet with his ashtray flavored mouth? Or did he have some secret quirk that Roy had just been oblivious to? This wasn't possible. The thought of _him _with _her_? It was enough to place a pit of unease and queasiness into the deep trenches of his stomach. The more he lingered on it, the closer Roy felt to retching until he stumbled over to his couch and collapsed on the hard cushions.

Riza. Jean Havoc. Something wasn't right in the world, and the little progress he had made with her, that momentary glint in her eyes he had seen, it all vanished in an image of her lips so tenderly kissing Jean. It was all too sickening for Roy. He wanted to forget it. Forget what he had seen, the burning emotions flaring in his stomach. he grabbed onto the neck of his gin bottle and pressed it to his lips. Yes, with his friends help he wouldn't need to remember.

Head back, Roy generously poured half the contents down his throat, enjoying every second of the burn.

**XxX**

Since discovering the nature of Hawkeye and Havoc's relationship, Roy spent every waking minute in the office with eyes subtly glued to the two of them. And while for the first few days he didn't manage to notice a thing, towards the end of the week he started to pick up on just how close they were. It was the small things that went unseen by everyone else.

Like the way she passed a report off to him and their hands would casually touch for just a second too long. Their eyes would linger on each other as he thanked her and the way just the smallest of smiles would grace her face. He also caught onto the way she would lean over his shoulder whenever he would bring up a question, just a little too close, her bosom just barely brushing against his back. And the most telltale sign of all, and perhaps the most innocent, was when they passed each other in the hall and her shoulder would skim against him, his hand sweeping low and grazing her waistline. It was all in one quick, fluid action, just barely noticeable.

They sat close during lunch breaks, never too close, but near enough that they could catch one another's eye or pass a quick word as one of them exited the cafeteria. And in the office their desks were situated just so that they could look across the room and into each other's eyes, a quick glance of hungry passion passing the two.

Had he not seen the innocent kiss between the two only a few nights ago, he never would have picked up on these signs. No one else noticed, but no one else was looking. He also watched Riza's house every night, bottle in his hands as he took swigs until his head swam. Havoc came sporadically, sometimes two nights in a row, then missing a day, then only coming for a few short moments the next. It seemed they didn't have a schedule, and as he continued to observe their subtle office exchanges, he didn't catch any sort of a code. Havoc showed up when he wanted and Riza never put him out, always opening the door wide for him to enter with a quick look to make sure that no one else was around to notice them.

No their secret affair was just that. A secret to everyone. Everyone except the person it hurt the most.

**A/N: Preview for next chapter: '**_**She started as he looked over at her, a jumble of emotions trapped in his eyes. The air around the two thickened and she felt the breath in her throat escape her, words dancing around her tongue that she had hoped for too long to say.'**_


	7. Gin Soaked Lips

**A/N: Here it is! Your first taste of Royai! I also have good news. I have the next five chapters written so the updates should be regular and frequent. Hope you all haven't grown too tired of my slow moving story. Speaking of, I just picked myself up two one-thousand plus page books so I'm going to be a wee bit distracted.**

**BTW, I would like to thank all of my reviewers so far. You guys are all really lovely and have been so kind to me in your reviews. I love the compliments and I'm glad you guys like it so far. Love you guys.**

Outside, the streets of Central City were being pelted by hordes of rain and hail. The dark skies were hung low with black clouds and streaks of blue lightning pelted to the ground, clapping in unison with rumbles of thunder. The storm was in full swing and not looking to let down anytime soon. The residents of the city had taken to their houses for cover, the last few stragglers soaking wet after only a block of walking. It was a fierce night, one the likes that Central inhabitants hadn't seen in months.

Inside her apartment, under a blanket with a warm cup of tea in hand, Riza tuned out the ear shattering protests of the thunder outside. She was engulfed in the pages of a novel, trying to ignore the storm that was raging outside. Rain was one thing. Lightning and thunder were another entirely. It was a well kept secret of hers that Riza Hawkeye was terrified of storms. To remedy this over the years she had found ways to distract her from whatever condition the outside world may be in. Reading, playing chess, cleaning her guns. Whatever she could do to draw her mind from the pounding downpour, the roaring thunder, and the frightening wind powers.

It had been maybe an hour after the storm had started and she had lost herself in printed word that the lights in her apartment flickered. She looked up from her page and at the lights, blinking on and off. There was a loud buzz from outside the apartment door and then the tiny space was cast into darkness. Black Hayate perked up from his curled ball at her feet and started to whine at his master, inquiring about the sudden blackness that settled upon them. She placed a hand on his muzzle and stood.

The sounds of the storm outside became deafeningly more apparent to Riza as she fumbled over to her light switch and flicked it on and off. No response. It seems there was a power outage, and as she took a glance outside through the sheets of rain, she saw that all the other windows on the block had gone black as well.

Candles. She had some stashed away in a few drawers around her house and she took them out, placing them in holders around the living room. A thought struck her as she withdrew another white candle. She had no way of lighting them. The pilot light on her stove had gone out with the rest of her power, and two years ago she had tossed anything and everything that was capable of producing a flame. She didn't need any reminders of flames or the alchemy that produced them and at this moment she cursed her rash behavior, wishing she had just a single match.

"Dammit," she muttered under her breath. If Jean had been there, his trusty lighter would have come in handy. But he had been working late and had gone home immediately after. The situation left her flameless, and exposed to the howls of the storm outside. Shivering as she heard another crack of thunder she went back over to the couch and the book she had set aside, grabbing it and shaking its pages free. Two things fell from it. Her bookmark, and a small slip of paper with tiny scrawled writing on it. It was a note she had received just yesterday stuffed between the pages of her book while she had been out of the office. While she had tried to forget about it, it seemed that due to her circumstances, something had drawn her back to it.

'_Hawkeye-_

_I need to see you, if only for a moment. And then you can go on hating me.'_

At the bottom was an address which she had discovered was located just across the lot of her complex. There wasn't a name at the bottom but she knew who it was from even without a signature. She needed a flame, and he wanted a word. The sick irony of equivalent exchange struck her as she looked down at the note.

Her window was illuminated in a flash of light while at the same time thunder rolled, shaking the wood boards beneath her. No, she didn't want to go over there, didn't want to see him, but it seemed fate was pulling them together with this twist in events. Sighing to herself, she went to her closet, threw on a raincoat and patted Black Hayate once more.

"If I'm not back in ten minutes I want you to chew one of my shoes."

On her balcony the wind whipped her coat open and her hair tangled around her face. Rain bombarded her, soaking her skin and clothing. She dashed down the stairs and across the street to the shabby door that was Roy's building and buzzed to be let in.

"Come on, come on, come on..."

The door clicked and she threw herself into the hallway, slamming the door behind her, shutting out the storm. Her hair dripped on the floor and she shook in her wet clothes, cold. She was well aware that she could have easily gone to one of her neighbors and asked for a match, or simply called up Jean. He would have braved the storm for her. But something about the note had drawn her to come over here and she wasn't going to turn back. Standing before his door she had to take a deep breath, preparing herself for the confrontation that was about to take place. There was no running away from him.

Knocking, she waited, freezing to the bone in the hallway. After a few seconds of no answer, she knocked again and placed her ear against the door. She didn't hear any movement as she continued to wait, growing impatient. He had to be there, they had left about the same time. And he hadn't gone to a bar, he drove off in the direction of both their places. Tired of waiting she pounded twice more before putting her hand on the knob and turning it. Surprisingly, it opened and she took a step into Roy's apartment.

It was dark, but Riza remembered there was no power anywhere. The shades were drawn but she could hear the rain against the windowpanes. In the kitchen were a few empty glasses, the cupboard open. On the table stood three empty bottles, all dark green, with an assortment of cups standing around them. Other then these few details it looked as if no one lived there. Not a picture in sight, no clothes, not even an object of personal sentiment. She didn't have time to linger on the emptiness of the living room, a clatter ringing in her ears from down the hall.

"Brigadier?" Riza called, scurrying towards the source of the noise. The door to the bathroom hung open and she fell into the doorframe, looking into the dark room. In a mess on the floor sat Roy, staring ahead of him into the shards of a broken mirror, collapsed on the ground. Reflective glass littered the floor and he sat among the pieces, one hand twitching at his side, the other clutching the remains of a broken glass cup. Bronze liquid oozed across the tile beneath him. He didn't seem to register that Riza was looming over him, her gaze moving from the mirror to the glass to him, dejectedly plopped on the ground. And then at the puddle of foul smelling drink pooled on the floor. Hesitantly she took a step into the bathroom and stooped over to his level. Her fingers quivered as she extended a hand and lightly placed it on his shoulder.

"Brigadier..."

In one slow motion he turned to look at her, taking a few seconds before recognition dawned on his face. His bloodshot eyes were sunken in, deep bags marring his boyish features. She immediately withdrew her hand, not placing the tired and sad face to the person she knew him as. He looked so worn, so shut in. So utterly depressed.

His face perked up and a half smile tugged on his lips, as if the effort to turn them upwards hurt him. "Lieutenant," he slurred, reaching out to take a hold of her shoulders. "You came after all! I have so much to tell you!" he rambled on, hysterical, as if it would be his last speech.

All anger, frustration, and betrayal flew from Riza's mind as she saw her former Colonel in his current state, drunk and falling apart at the seams in his bathroom. All she wanted to do was gather him up, force coffee down his throat and sober him up. Her old instincts kicked in to protect, serve, and push forward. She would push him past this drunken episode.

"Come on. Let's get you up and get you a drink without any alcohol in it."

She came to his side and put an arm under his and used the wall for support to slowly lift him up. He managed to get almost to his feet before violently swaying to the side and nearly toppling her over. '_Damn he can barely walk,_' she thought frantically, gripping his side a little tighter, allowing him to press his weight upon her as he weaved back and forth. He reeked of booze and was babbling nonsensically to her. Apologies, pleads, explanations, the lot.

"Shh, not now. Let's get you sitting up somewhere," she said quietly, hushing him with soft words. He listened as easily as an obedient child and quickly stopped talking. With much effort, she half supported, half dragged him down the hall and into the living room where she let him fall to the couch, his head falling over the backside, his body slouching into the cushions. In his hand he still clutched the glass which had jagged edges brimming the top. She saw a dried red paint and realized he had cut himself upon the glass.

Mind frantic and overwhelmed, she ripped the glass away from him and inspected the damage. There was a single deep shard cut into his palm, the bleeding stopped and if she didn't remove it and clean it now the risk for inspection was high. Running back to the bathroom, tiptoeing over the broken glass and mirror shards, she managed to find some bandages which she brought back. She hadn't been able to find anything to clean it with so thinking desperately, she grabbing one of his open liquor bottles from the kitchen counter and then settled on her knees beside him.

"Now Colonel, this might sting just a little. Actually, a lot. Please don't jump, it will only make it worse."

Ripping the shard from his palm, Roy let out a loud yelp. She poured the alcohol over the wound, the skin fizzling up around the wound. He hissed low, whimpering on the couch as she eyed the wound to make sure it was cleaning it self. She had grabbed a damp rag and was blotting away the liquor when she caught sight of the faint white scar on her own palm. Broken glass shard over him. The satire was bitter in her mouth.

Riza wrapped the rest of the wound and returned to his eye level. "I'm going to clean up the mess in the bathroom. Don't you dare have anything else to drink or I will shoot you."

"Yes," he managed to say.

She cleaned the bathroom with swiftness, brushing the glass and mirror bits into a trash bag and setting the broken mirror frame safely in a closet till he could _soberly_ take care of it. The smell of brewed coffee filled the apartment and once she had cleaned the mess, she poured him a cup, black, and brought to over to him. He was half drunkenly groggy, half paralyzed with pain still.

"Drink this."

"No!" he objected, shoving the mug away.

"Colonel!"

He pouted but grabbed the cup away from her and guzzled the coffee down in two big gulps. Satisfied, she placed herself on the couch a good distance from him and sat in silence. He would talk eventually, she wouldn't need to prod him further. And after moments of silence, Roy shifted to give her a sideways stare before opening his mouth, slurring but still understandable.

"I didn't think you would come."

"You promised to leave me alone if I did."

"I'm sorry."

Riza sighed and brushed away her still wet strand of hair. She realized she was still damp and the apartment was still dark. The lights hadn't been turned back on. Ignoring his utterance, she stood and started going through the drawers and cupboards she could find.

"Do you have any candles?"

"Cabinet. Loads."

She discovered piles of candles and brought them over to the table. "Matches?" she asked, half joking. The alchemist regarded her with humored eyes, catching the joke even if she was drunk. He pointed to another place where she retrieved a glove of his and handed it to him. With a simple finger movement he managed to light the ten or so candles, casting the room in a low light, the walls bouncing as the flames flickered back and forth. He tossed away the glove, landing it in a crumple across the room. She resettled into her previous position, this time fumbling over what to say. It was her turn to talk.

"I guess I just don't understand and I don't think I ever will..." she finally said after a long pause.

Roy rolled his head in a circle and groaned low. "I know," he grunted out. "And I don't expect you to understand. I was an idiot! Biggest mistake I have ever made! I dunno if we will ever get back to how we were. It just burns me up inside."

"Look I ju-"

"No just shut up for a second, ok?" Roy demanded, drunkenly turning on her. Riza, surprised at his sudden overriding demand shut her open mouth and looked intently at him, nodding for him to go on.

"I used to be able to read you so damned well. Hell, half the time we didn't even need to plan a thing because we just knew how the other's mind was working. You dedicated your life to pushing me forward, motivating me to do better. You took care of me better then I could take care of myself. Tonight is just another example of my complete idiocy. And then I just trash all that and disappear because I'm sad and have bad dreams at night? Ah waaah, I sound like such a stupid kid!

"I was so scared f everything. I was scared because I lost half my eyesight. I was scared to use alchemy because I didn't want to hurt anyone else. I was scared of what you thought of me after I got that boy killed. I was scared of the cries and screams and bloods that filled my every dream. I was so scared I could just piss myself! I was terrified of everything and everyone around me seeing how weak and fragile I am. So I just left.

"But it wasn't right when I left, you understand? I felt this cold lump all the time. When I eat, worked, twiddled my thumbs, slept. It was this cold gnawing feeling of I am not doing the right thing. I shouldn't be here in the North. I wrote you about ten letters that I never sent. I called twice but hung up before the phone ever rang. I even filled out hundreds of requests for my old post here in Central but always ripped them up and threw them away. Eventually I just stopped caring. I let the snow pile up around me and tried to fit in up there and forget everything, everyone I had left without a single final regard.

"And I know why I did it too. I left without a word because I didn't want you to follow me. And don't lie to me Hawkeye, dammit I knew you would have followed right up there. Resigned from your post and kicked my ass all the North and all the way back home. It wasn't that I didn't want you to follow, heaven knows I could have used the one true friend with me. But I couldn't do that to you. I have put you through so much already I couldn't just make you forsake everything you had worked so hard to earn here, leave everyone you knew behind just for my benefit. I realize know it was the dumbest mistake I could have made, but I wasn't going to do that to you. I wasn't going to hurt you one last time."

And this point Roy stopped his tirade, his words starting to clear up and become less slurred. He was still turned to her and suddenly he leaned over to her and took her shoulders into his hands, looking deep into her eyes.

"Dammit Riza," he stumbled over the name, so unfamiliar. Informal. "Lieutenant. Riza. Hawkeye. Major. What the hell ever. I'm so damned sorry. But I couldn't do that to you, do you understand?"

She just stared at him, her mouth slightly agape at his long speech. She was speechless, unable to come up with a response. She wasn't angry, and she was no longer confused. She was... touched? That wasn't even the right word for it. He had cared enough to put so much thought process into his leave and she hadn't even considered the possibilities. And now that she knew the full story she had a hard time remaining angry.

He looked away from her, his grip slackening. His visible eye darkened and his mouth fit itself into a deep frown. "Who knew when I came home... I... I shouldn't even care about this so I don't know why it affects me like it does. But I saw you Hawkeye. I saw you the other night. I saw you with him. I saw you and Havoc. I saw you together. I saw it. I saw you. I..."

He cut off and neared her once more, grip tightening again as he drew closer. "I saw you kiss him and to come back to that? It sent me into a raging fit. I have no idea why just that someone other then me is able to read you so well and be so close to you? I guess it just destroys me inside. You have no idea."

She started as he looked over at her, a jumble of emotions trapped in his eyes. The air around the two thickened and she felt the breath in her throat escape her, words dancing around her tongue that she had hoped for too long to say. Roy was close. Close enough that she could make out the stitching in his eyepatch, see the depth in his obsidian eye. She could smell the gin on his breath, see the wet on his lips, feel the weight of his hands upon her.

Leaping from her sit, she threw his hands away from her and snapped her eyes to and fro. "I-I have to go," she muttered, turning on her heel and sprinting out his door. He didn't call after her as she ran out into the hall, down the stairs and back out into the pouring rain. It was still heavily storming and she got drenched as she ran through the sheets of rain across the street. It was only when she got inside her apartment and slid her back down the door into a ball on the ground that she remembered she had forgotten to ask for a light.

**A/N: Cheers all! Now to work on my roleplay.**


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